I'll Never Hold You Close Enough
by joanholloway
Summary: Motel California AU where Lydia stays with Isaac after saving Boyd, while Stiles and Allison deal with Scott with Boyd's help. Rated M for future chapters.


- Isaac -

He's lying on his bed in the dark, listening to the rain. The mattress is squeaky, the comforter is old and even smells like old folks, Isaac can hear thumping and TV sounds coming from behind the room walls. The motel feels too quiet and filled with weird noises at the same time, and it seems like he's not going to get any sleep after all.

When he and Boyd arrived in the room, the evening's schedule seemed pretty cut and dry : taking turns in the shower, finding something to eat, and pass out in front of the TV. Yet nothing happened the way it was supposed to.

He was in the shower, trying to clear his head under the flow of water dripping down his body, which felt so tense after spending the entire day crumpled on a tiny bus seat… and after everything that happened afterwards.

_I can't fucking believe I punched Ethan in front of everybody. I need to get a grip._

Most of the time he doesn't let his train of thoughts run freely, otherwise the flow of memories of his father comes back pretty quickly and that ends invariably in a tear fest. Tonight though, trying to relax his shoulders, trying to pop his stiff neck, the memories started to creep inside his head. Images, sounds came back to him in flashes, along with uneasy feelings of fear and impending pain. No matter how hard he scrubbed himself and how desperately he tried to force his thoughts on a different direction, his eyes opening and closing frantically, his breath short, the shadow of his past abuse was around every corner. He finally got out of the shower, grabbed one of the suspect looking towels provided by the motel and dried himself thoroughly, like every pat on his body and every clean limb was going to make him feel safe again. He couldn't help this queasy feeling in his stomach though, this bubble of loneliness slowly expanding inside of him, taking over his heart and throat. When he finally looked at his reflection in the mirror, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes wide and feverish, brows knotted in a worried expression, he had to refrain from crying. His hands fell on each side of the sink, and he stayed a few moments in the same position, his back slightly bent forward, his eyes looking at the face in the mirror, at this blue-eyed guy who seemed to struggle to breath without falling apart.

_Derek_...

And then he was startled by the room's door closing with a bang. He got out of the bathroom to find that Boyd was gone. Isaac let out a long shaky breath and started to get through his bag, searching for some clean clothes to wear. Unfortunately, he didn't plan to stay overnight and packed accordingly : there was only his lacrosse gear and outfit in the bag. He sighed, removing his towel and throwing it on the bathroom floor. He wished he could have kept as much as possible of this feeling of cleanliness and lightness he always felt right after he got out of the shower, especially when he was at the same time feeling this vulnerable and tired. He discarded his underwear of the day, and put back on his still warm jeans and white t-shirt.

The bed looks old, with the kind of mattress that guarantees a two-days long backache to the one brave or desperate enough to sleep on it, and Isaac's heightened sense of smell provided him with more information about its state of dirtiness that he would have cared to find out. But that didn't stop him from sitting on the bed to watch some TV. He pressed the 'on' button, but it seemed like there wasn't any reception. He flipped from channel to channel, and all he got was snow, and the weird, somehow unbearable sound that comes with it. He couldn't stop from pressing the buttons on the remote though, one by one, not really expecting any channel to pop on the screen but doing it anyway.

After some time, he had enough. He flipped the light switch and lied back on the bed, over the covers. The bubble is still in his chest and makes it hard to swallow. That's when he started noticing the sounds, and that's when the idea of getting some sleep deserted him.

He could have gone out, looking for Boyd, looking for some of his teammates to chat and drink the booze one of them probably took with him in prevision for the after game ride, consolation for their loss or celebration for their win. He could have gone out looking for Scott to have a run with him around the motel, to try and forget about Derek. Maybe Stiles would have been with him, talking and talking and talking some more, and they could have tried to hatch a plan to get back at these fucking Alphas.

He could even have knocked on Allison's door. He used to hate her, on account of her trying to kill him and actually stabbing him. And then the other day, after she blurted out that poor excuse of an apology, he almost hurt her and only Scott barging in stopped him from actually doing some physical damage. That made him feel like shit, losing control, losing himself to fear and almost going all the way to being someone like… to do something really really bad. Somehow he couldn't hate her after that. It evened out things between them. When they messed with Aiden's bike later, he could feel, he could sense, he could smell that what happened changed something for her as well. It was unmistakable, they were so close.

_There was something, you were looking at my mouth, we were inches from each other Allison. _

He never thought of Allison as a possibility for him, on account of Scott and her being so in love. Even broken up, it blinded everyone who looked at them together, talking to each other, their eyes burning with passion for each other. But he's feeling so alone, he can't help but let his mind wander to that door, to the idea that maybe, juste maybe, she's willing. Never mind that he wouldn't actually do that to Scott, his imagination is running.

There's Lydia in the same room. Isaac doesn't like to think about her. She's so beautiful, so unattainable, cute and deadly at the same time, she's able to smile and light up the room and then annihilate you with her wit and bitchiness. He used to have a crush on her. In fact, he used to talk to her quite a lot in French class when they were in junior high, when they got paired up this one time for an assignment. She worked so hard and so fast, she talked to him with ease, without looking flushed and embarrassed like he was when they were in the library together. They weren't friends, but Isaac was already amazed at the opportunity to be close to her, and during the two weeks they had to work together, he neglected his other classes and homework to focus on his French homework and on this one assignment, so much that he failed a Math pop quiz and had to endure one of his Dad's infamous lessons, taught with the help of his brown leather belt. It was a soft one though, compared to the dark turn these lessons took after Camden's death. The pain was worth it anyway, it was the price to pay to bask in the light of Lydia Martin's smile. Isaac thought about her at night in his bed, about their conversations, and he was hoping she would realize that he was as awesome as these high school guys she seemed to like. He would go through every memory he had of her ; the cinnamon smell of her shampoo, the way her curls had brushed against his hand that one time she dropped her pen on the floor, the frown on her face when she struggled with the pronunciation of some French word, the way her blouse revealed the top of her small breasts - well they were small when she was thirteen - the way she had laughed at a joke he made that one time. He would think of her and stroke himself to sleep, every night for two weeks, waking up all sticky and his head still filled with his dreams of her, restless all day until finally, they were sitting together again, not even for an hour, to work on that assignment.

_'Isaac, est-ce que tu es prêt pour demain?'_

He barely slept the day before their presentation in front of the class, he was so nervous. It was his time to shine, to show all the other kids that they were the perfect pair, to show her… It seemed stupid, looking back, but at the time, he was sure that if they rocked their French presentation, Lydia would be his. Not like his girlfriend maybe, but his friend at least. They would have an unbreakable bond. And then it was just a matter of time before he charmed his perfect girl and they could be in love with each other. Of course that didn't happen. The presentation went okay, Lydia was flawless of course, Isaac was red and sweaty and spoke too quietly and too fast, but the work was fine, she made sure of that, they could speak with a good accent, and so they got a good grade.

Lydia didn't talk to him again.

Isaac thought about her every night still, he watched her during recess, in the cafeteria, in French class, he knew the back of her head by heart. But they never spoke to each other again, not really. He said Hi a couple of times, and Lydia smiled, walking past him and his skinny limbs and pale skin, then went to grab a smoothie with some guy who was in high school and played for the lacrosse team. Isaac was invisible to her.

Then, over the summer, his voice finally settled, he grew ? inches and gained ? pounds of muscle helping his father cut down trees and chopping down the trunks at the graveyard. He was still gangly but at least he didn't look and talk like a little boy anymore. He thought about her all the time, joined the lacrosse team as soon as the sign up sheet came out, watched French films hoping to become a fluent speaker.

And then the first day of school came. As soon as Isaac saw her, he didn't hesitate. He had a few sentences he rehearsed so many times in his head - and in front of his mirror - and he marched down the hallway to ask Lydia Martin out. So nervous, his hands sweaty, his mind begging his dick to stay put, his mouth trying to flash a confident smile. She was so beautiful, her red hair - strawberry blonde would have said Stiles - cascading in soft curls on her shoulders, her lipstick a little too red for a fourteen years old freshman, her outfit carefully coordinated, bringing out her green eyes, hugging her perfect little body.

Well perfect Miss Martin laughed in his face like he was joking around and told him to come back 'when the bike you ride to school has an engine and not a chain'. Oh the humiliation, the way her girlfriends giggled behind their hands, the way she never gave him a second look, the way she was glued to Jackson in the hallways. So Isaac doesn't like to think about her, even now that he's grown some more, that he has the body and strength and power of a werewolf, that he's free from the crushing presence of his dad. He would have killed Lydia when they thought she was the Kanima, he would have done it out of hate and revenge, he hated that she didn't seem to remember him at all, neither their stint in junior high together, or his profession of love freshman year. He just didn't exist to her, when she was very VERY real to him. How could he forget his first crush?

The pit of despair in his belly is sinking him in the mattress, his eyes are burning a little, and the sound of rain pouring outside is slowly lulling him to sleep.

_I'm not good enough, he was right, I've never been good enough for anything._

It's the cold that wakes him up. It's like he has a fever, he's drenched in sweat and yet the room feels so cold, because he fell asleep on top of the covers and his body temperature lowered a bit too much. It takes Isaac a minute to remember where he is. The rain is still falling outside, and since there was no answer when he called for Boyd, he's still alone in the room. Weird, because he's pretty sure that he slept for at least an hour. The ceiling fan is on ; Boyd must have been back and then went out again, because Isaac doesn't remember turning it on. Not when he feels this cold. There's loud clicking sounds again, the banging of doors and footsteps all over the place, and then he hears his voice. His dad's voice. Badgering him again about the damn freezer. Like he's supposed to know everything about fixing freezers.

_I'm sorry I didn't know, what do you want me to do?_

He's feeling overwhelmed, he has to know that, it's so simple, how can he be so stupid?

_I don't want to get in, I don't want to, it's horrible in there._

He's screaming.

….

When Boyd comes back in the room, he's under his bed. Isaac doesn't make a sound, doesn't make a move, and follows with his eyes the sound coming from behind the bed spread of two feet crossing the room. Boyd doesn't even search for him, he's listening to the radio, sitting on his bed. Isaac doesn't hear anything, bathing in the sound of his own ragged breathing, trying to keep it down so bad it hurts him in the back of his throat, like someone is slicing open his trachea. Images of his dad flash before his eyes and he just knows that if he finds out where Isaac's hiding, he's going to punish him. There's the sound of the radio crashing on the floor and he's trying to disappear even more, the lesson is coming but maybe, just maybe if he's small enough and if he doesn't look, his dad won't see him and nothing will happen to him.

Isaac's closing his eyes so hard he's seeing stars, and he only opens them with the sound of the front door banging open and someone going into the bathroom.

_When did Boyd got out of the room?_

There's water running in the bathtub, water being a bit splashed around, and all of the sudden people barging in the room and running. There's so many scents ; fear, hormones, cinnamon, hair wax, sweat, despair, panic, lust, dust, almond body lotion. He's scared, they're coming for him, he's so stupid he's going to be locked in the freezer again, he just knows it, the cold sweats are back, he's breathing so fast, they're going to spot him. Isaac's curling in a ball, eyes shut tight, pulling at his damp shirt.

Suddenly he's startled by the girl lifting the bedspread and looking at him.

_They've found me, no no no no no no no..._

There's a loud thump, someone cries out. A few seconds later there's a boy in her place, with a kind of torch, nearly burning his face, and Isaac snaps out of it. He's in the motel, he's under the bed, his dad is dead, he's never going back in the freezer, these people are his teammate Stiles and Lydia Martin. They help him up from the floor, each pulling at one of his arms. Isaac's struggling to stand at first, they have to straighten him up, Stiles is holding his back, Lydia presses her hand on his chest. He's blinking and taking in long breaths. He spots Boyd leaning against the bathroom door frame, soaking wet.

- 'What happened?'

- 'He tried to drown himself in the bathtub.'

Boyd is looking at him briefly before his gaze returns to the floor. He looks shaken. Isaac talks for him.

- 'How did you know?'

There's a silence ; Stiles searches for Lydia's eyes, Lydia is looking at Stiles with her mouth open, struggling to get words out. Isaac can sense the intimacy between those two. He knows of course that Stiles is head over heels in love with this chick, everyone knows that, but there's something more. He's winning her over. Lydia doesn't want him, there's no lust coming from her right now, but he can tell that she trusts Stiles and unbeknownst to her, she lets a little bit of her cold facade down when it comes to him. Isaac can't really bear this look between the two of them. It never fails to surprise him, but it still hurts when he feels invisible to her again, every time they are running around with Scott, Stiles, Allison and the rest of them. When she only had eyes for Jackson. When she's having these moments with Stiles that only the two of them seem to understand, like there's no one else around, like they're having right know. Isaac's eyes go from one of them to the other, until Lydia finally looks up at him, sucking in her lower lip and knotting her brow.

- 'I just knew. I had a bad feeling about this place as soon as we got in, you know. I can't tell you how but suddenly I heard voices, someone talking about drowning a baby, and I knew one of you guys was going to hurt himself. Ethan already went berserk on Danny earlier.'

- 'We freaked out when we couldn't get Boyd out of the tub.' Stiles is agitated, he blinks fast and his hands are messing up his hair. 'I mean he put a safe over him and we don't have that kind of strength so… Lydia thought of the burning emergency sticks or whatever and that was genius.' He glances at her with adoration before reluctantly reporting his attention on Isaac. 'How are you feeling?'

Isaac looks down. He's freaking out, he feels so weak and exhausted. What if it happened to him again? It seems to him that he's as vulnerable now, werewolf power and all, leaning on these two teenagers and shaking like a leaf, as he used to be after one of his father's lessons, bruised and aching all over. Human.

- 'I guess... I'm just tired. I need to sit down for a bit.'

They help him sit on the edge of the bed, and his head falls down in his hands, elbows on his knees. He lets out a long, shaky breath. The other three are talking some more, something about going out looking for Scott. Boyd sounds less assured than usual. His voice breaks a little, and Isaac can sense he's still in shock. A fact that does nothing to make him feel reassured, and he can't help a sharp intake of breath, which only hardens the pressure on his chest.

- 'Isaac? Are you okay?'

She's pressing her small hand on his shoulder, burning his skin where her fingertips are getting past his collar, bending slightly over him, and he can feel the brush of her hair on the crown of his head, barely there like a whisper. Lydia's scent is overwhelming, all sweet and cinnamon, with a hint of mint from the gum she's chewing. His jaw sets, his eyes shut closed, and he hunches over a little more, burying his face in his palms.

- 'Yeah, I just… I need to rest for a little while.'

- 'Lydia, we need to go look for Scott right now.' Stiles sounds even more agitated than usual. 'Isaac can stay here but we have to find Scott before something bad happens to him. Or to Allison, who's out there alone looking for him, remember?

- 'Alright. You get some sleep Isaac, we'll check on you as soon as we get Scott, okay?'

Stiles and Boyd start to walk towards the door. He feels Lydia straightening up, losing the comforting feeling of her body and her hair screening him from the room. The unbearable vulnerability he experienced moments ago is back, and it feels fucking terrible. She's removing her hand from his shoulder, making a step away from him when he gently grabs her hand. She stops and Isaac tilts his head away from his hands, looking at her puzzled expression.

- 'Don't… Don't leave me alone. Please.'

He speaks softly, pleading with his voice and his eyes, setting aside his pride. He only wants to curl up underneath her warmth, like under a blanket, a shield against his fears. It doesn't make any sense but there he is, holding this red-headed girl's hand and pouring himself in her doe eyes, hoping she will have mercy. If she laughs in his face, and he half-expects her to do just that, Isaac knows he will fall apart and cry like a baby right in front of her.

Yet Lydia doesn't laugh, she doesn't even smile. She only looks at him, intently, with a softness in her features that he never saw before. Eventually she turns her gaze to the other side of the room ; Isaac doesn't need to turn his head to know that Stiles and Boyd are looking at them. He's soaking it all in : Boyd's concern and surprise at the scene, Stiles' jealousy. Isaac understands his confused feelings as if Stiles was spelling them out for him : he knows about some of the history between Lydia and Isaac, but named it 'unrequited love' and left it at that. Yet now he can't stand to see Lydia touched by another guy, it's killing him to see her holding his hand, looking at him like that, because it's supposed to be his turn now that Jackson is gone, he waited for her for so long already.

Stiles is about to protest but Boyd cuts him off before he utters a single word.

- 'She should stay with him.' He speaks softly, every break in his voice showing his weariness. 'It's better if Isaac doesn't stay alone, we don't know what he could do to himself once we're gone. I'd also like to sleep but it seems like it's a bad idea to leave the two of us alone together. Besides, you're going to need someone with a little strength if shit goes down with Scott. So one of you two has to stay. And dude, I think you're the one most likely to help Scott, so that leaves Lydia to keep an eye on Isaac.'

Stiles is not thrilled, but there is no response to that kind of flawless reasoning. So he gives up with a sigh, and leaves with Boyd, after he tells Lydia to scream as loud as she can 'if anything scary or freaky or bizarre is happening or about to happen or anything. Just scream and we'll be there.' She nods, and they're gone.

The silence is excruciating. Isaac can feel her gaze on him, he can smell her pity, and already he wonders if he wouldn't be better alone. He gathers up the courage to look Lydia in the eyes again, now that they're alone, and immediately drops her hand, feeling self conscious. Lydia sits next to him, still hunched up on the side of the bed, the closest she can without actually touching him. She exudes bewilderment and concern, and he can tell she's going to talk to him. Isaac can hear her opening and closing her mouth a bunch of times, finding her breath, looking for the right words to say, and with every second she doesn't utter a word his throat is closing a bit more, his eyes itching like crazy.

- 'Why were you under the bed earlier? Did you see something?'

How do you even respond to that? _Oh yeah just a couple of years of abuse at the hands of my father resurfacing, no biggie, I just felt like I was going out of my freaking mind and he was coming for me big time_. He's toying with the idea of telling her the naked truth, but when he turns his head and looks Lydia in the eyes, Isaac knows he's going to collapse and that's a physical and emotional toll he's in no shape to pay right now.

- 'I was hum… I was hearing voices… I was hearing my dad, and there were some freaky noises, and I don't know, I just got scared. It felt like someone was coming for me, and so… I had to hide. And once I got under the bed, well I… I was petrified, it was kinda like a panic attack. So…'

- 'Was it… Do you mean that you thought your dad was coming for you?'

Lydia's frowning in a perfect pout, yet that does nothing to distract him from the agonizing pain he feels all along is trachea. His mouth closed, jaw muscles tight, Isaac struggles to breathe evenly through his nose and to swallow the tears, his eyes fluttering across the room, looking everywhere but in her direction.

- 'Isaac?'

She puts her hand on his arm in a gesture of concern, and he bends his head. He's had enough, he can't talk, he doesn't want to explain, it's too painful. So he closes his eyes and exhales a long breath, then turns to her.

- 'Look hum… I, I really feel like shit right now, and I'd rather not talk about all that. I just want to try and sleep for a while, if that's okay with you.'

- 'Alright.'

She stands up and walks to the other side of the room. A quick peek behind the curtains and she flips the light switch off. Isaac crawls on his back until he's laying on the bed. He feels colder the further away he is from her, colder and more exposed, it's like a rejection. He looks at Lydia as she's crossing the room to the bathroom, and when she looks at him again he scoots over to the right side of the bed, hoping she'll get the hint. She holds his gaze as she's flipping the switch near the bathroom door, turning off the light above the sink. The only light in the room comes from the window, but it takes him less than a minute to make out the outline of her coming closer. She sits on the left side of the bed with a sigh, the mattress bending noisily even under her lightweight body. Isaac can hear more than see her taking off her shoes and her denim jacket, and then she's here. She's lying on her side, facing him and away from the window, using her jacket as a tiny blanket over her minidress. Her smell is all around, enhanced by the humidity of the air and the dampness of her hair. He just has to close his eyes and it's 8th grade all over again. It's the perfect moment to ask her, to finally KNOW, to get an honest answer out of her, the sound of her heartbeat is loud to him after all, she can't lie, and there's no one else around.

_Why didn't you want me? Why didn't you ever talk to me? _

Yet that's not the question that passes his lips. Cause even though you always think you want to know why you got rejected by the person you love, you never actually want to hear the answer. To have your fantasy of the two of you together, being perfect and in love IF ONLY she could realize the possibility, crushed in a million pieces when you hear the dreaded words 'I don't like you'. It's never actually put that way, but the truth is always in between the lines.

- 'Est-ce que… tu te souviens de notre exposé en français?'

Lydia looks stunned to hear that, of all things, right now when there's a big werewolf crisis happening and they're kind of trapped in a shitty motel, possibly haunted to boot. If she thinks that's going to stop him from getting an answer, she's in for a surprise. But right on, she's the one who's doing all the surprising. Isaac expected her to pretend not to remember, to play with him a little bit, or to openly laugh at him but she doesn't. She speaks softly, clearly, like she's making small talk to humor a sick person, not really annoyed, not really giving a shit either. Cold.

- 'Erm… Oui, je m'en souviens. It was, like, in junior high right? La Révolution Française? Your accent has improved I think.'

Isaac wishes he could say the same about his tendency towards crushes on unattainable girls. For the last six months, he didn't really think of her that much when she wasn't around, but now she's creeping back up under his skin with every second, so infuriating and beautiful, it's kind of pissing him off. Any other night Isaac might have kept that bottled up inside, but tonight, he's all broken up, and he has to lift some weight off his chest before he's crushed underneath.

- 'Yeah… I figured maybe you didn't remember, since you pretty much ignored me afterwards…'

Silence stretches between them for a few seconds. He can hear Lydia's heartbeat picking up almost imperceptibly, like she didn't see that one coming.

- 'I remembered you, I'm not stupid. But we weren't exactly friends, we just did some homework together. What was I supposed to do, come and spend every recess with you?'

The humiliation stings. Isaac had forgotten how bitchy she can be when she wants to. Lydia must have sensed him tense beside her because she takes a breath, replaces a loose strand of hair behind her hear, and keeps talking, gently this time, smoothing over the bedspread with her hand.

- 'I just meant that… I thought you were nice and stuff, but I was under the impression that you had kind of a crush on me, and I didn't want to lead you on. So I thought that maybe it was best to just… nip it in the bud and not really talk to you anymore. Plus we didn't have any friends or interests in common so…'

- 'Yeah I get it, it's fine, it's fine.'

- 'I was kind of obsessed with popularity back then. I mean, I still am, but not as bad I guess.'

Isaac can't believe he's having this conversation with Lydia Martin. He pictured it a few times in his head over the years, but he never expected it to actually happen, and he absolutely did not anticipated that it would go down this way. In his head she just forgot about him, or the days he was feeling vanilla she revealed a secret crush on him she never dared to tell anyone about - not so vanilla when this declaration of love invariably ended with a steamy make out session and then a steamier first time (for him at least). He's stunned, but it's not enough to keep him out of the daze and numbness clouding his brain and body. He's slightly slurring his words, eyes closed, when he finally speaks again.

- 'Even at the time I figured that I wasn't… cool enough for you anyway, what with all the lacrosse players always crawling all over you.'

- 'Is that why you decided to play for Beacon Hills?'

She seems amused by the idea, like she's flirting with him a bit. Like he's currently in a state to engage in some witty banter, and not on the edge of passing out. He's too weak to fight, she's going to hate it it'll be so easy for her to get what she wants : reassurance in her power of attraction. He shifts on the bed, trying to be comfortable, until he's lying on his right side, facing her but without opening his eyes.

- 'Yeah, it is… It was at the time at least.'

There's no response. Only sounds ; the sound of the rain outside, of the heater still on in the bathroom, of her heartbeat and her breathing that are letting him know she's not sleeping yet either. It goes on for what seems like an eternity, until he's half asleep, until her heart skips a beat, and Isaac doesn't understand why till he feels her tiny hand take his left hand, lifting it until it's resting somewhere between their two chests, their fingers laced together. Lydia's whole body is tense waiting to see his reaction, trying to imitate the stillness of sleep but failing miserably. She's struggling to keep her exhalations in check. Isaac knows the feeling, his own chest is getting more constricted the more he tries to breathe evenly. They both work so hard to keep up the illusion that they're asleep and nothing is happening. Even though something is definitely happening.


End file.
